Page 17 of Dr. Stone (Billionaires’ Club #9)

SIXTEEN

Andie

“Come on, buddy,” I whispered, scooping up my poor, sick little boy. He was dressed and ready to go the moment Jace arrived.

The fever that had spiked before he threw up all over me had finally broken after a lukewarm bath, but I could feel it creeping back.

“Damn it,” I muttered, collapsing onto the sofa with him in my arms. He whimpered and whined, miserable to the bone.

I kissed the top of his damp, curly brown hair, inhaling the familiar scent of Johnson’s Baby Shampoo. My heart ached for him, and that was why I gave in and let Jace play the savior tonight.

I’d been going nonstop since I called my parents, telling them to stay back because Brandon was too sick and uncomfortable with teething to go anywhere. I was running on fumes and hadn’t given much thought to what I’d miss out on with Titus tonight.

Thankfully, he’d understood my last-minute cancellation despite all the effort he’d put into planning the evening. The man had bought me a couture dress that looked ready for the Met Gala, not just a night at the opera in San Francisco. Still, none of it mattered when my baby was sick.

A few soft knocks at the door alerted me that Jace, my personal Uber and lifeline for the night, had arrived.

I stood, holding Brandon close, silently hoping Dr. Brandt wasn’t too put out with the last-minute scramble. Either way, I was damn grateful to both of them. All I wanted now was for my son to feel better fast.

“Hey,” I said, containing my hormones at the sight of the man standing in my doorway, “let me get my keys.” I turned, shifting Brandon to my left hip, and moved through the house to find my keys.

"No need for that, gorgeous," he said. "I’ve got a car all ready to go."

I smiled, grabbing the strap of Brandon’s backpack that I used as his diaper bag, “Cute, but Brandon’s car seat is in my car, and I need to get it out, or we aren’t going anywhere.”

“Right,” he said.

I shouldered the backpack, then turned and smiled at Jace, who looked sexy as sin on a Sunday. His dark blue button-down shirt was rolled up at the sleeves, convincing me that it should be illegal for a man to look so effortlessly attractive to a single mom holding a feverish baby.

“You’re sure you want to do this with me? I mean, once I?—”

“If I weren’t sure, I wouldn’t have traded one of my treasured sports cars—the one I allow no one else to drive—with Jake to borrow Ash’s car.”

“Damn, you aren’t messing around tonight, are you?”

“No. Now, I may not be experienced in having children, but I am not afraid to learn, either.” He looked at Brandon, who’d been gnawing on his fingers, watching the new stranger with deep intrigue.

“Poor guy,” he said. “We’re gonna get you taken care of.”

“This is Brandon,” I said, introducing the two as if my one-year-old son knew how to acknowledge some friend of his mom’s who was on a mission to impress her for some wild reason I still couldn’t understand.

Brandon instantly became shy on top of feeling horrible and grumpy. Instead of the beaming smile he usually greeted everyone with, he buried his face into my shoulder and avoided any contact with Jace.

I chuckled when I saw Jace frown in response.

“He feels like shit,” I said, locating my keys and snatching them off the counter. “Don’t take his moodiness personally.”

“I just feel bad for the guy. His little glassy eyes give away how badly he must feel.”

“I appreciate you doing this for me,” I said, tossing him my keys. “Here, do me a favor and grab his seat.”

We walked out of the condo without saying another word, and I grinned at how cute Jace’s gesture was, but I had to remember not to get attached.

I wasn’t used to having anyone help me like this. I certainly didn’t want to become dependent upon it, especially if this guy was playing silly relationship games and I was just enjoying the flattery.

The fallout after we called it quits, which I was pretty sure we most likely would, could shatter me and my heart if I wasn’t careful.

“A single mom with a Cabriolet Porsche?” he said, opening the door and grabbing the seat out. “Damn, gorgeous, I like you more and more.”

“Of course me having a sports car would turn your ass on,” I eyed his shit-eating grin as he went about securing the car seat in the back seat of Ash’s Range Rover.

“Damn right, that turns me on,” he said with a wink, moving out of the way so I could buckle Brandon in. “I dig a chick who sees value in cars.”

“I hate to burst your bubble, but I’m not into cars,” I said as we got into the two front seats and quickly headed out of the parking lot. Jace was not wasting any time, and I appreciated that. “My parents bought me that car as a graduation gift.”

“That’s fair,” he responded as he pulled onto the highway. “So, if you’re not into cars, what, may I ask, interests the one lady I haven’t been able to get out of my mind since we first met?”

“Hmm, I don’t know. Nothing, I guess?”

“You seemed to know about sailboats when I bought that painting. So, if you’re not into cars, maybe boats?”

I didn’t want to get into my love for sailboats and boating just yet, especially since this wasn’t a normal date. This was just my one-night stand offering to help me get my sick kid into the ER and hopefully on antibiotics.

“You know,” I said, skillfully sidestepping the whole boat topic, “this small talk between us is painfully weird.” I laughed, shaking my head. “We’re a perfect fit in bed, but when it comes to actual conversation? We’re a train wreck.”

“I have to agree with that,” he chuckled, his eyes skimming over me in that way that made my brain short-circuit. “So let’s skip the awkward part. Tell me something that actually interests you.”

“I…love small dogs,” I blurted, instantly regretting it.

He tilted his head, amusement flickering across his mouth.

Fantastic. Out of all the things in the universe, I went with small dogs . Not travel, not books, not anything remotely sexy or intriguing—nope. Just the verbal equivalent of beige paint. I could practically feel myself shrinking under the weight of my own unoriginality.

“Small dogs are an interest of yours?” he said with confusion.

“I don’t know,” I shrugged. “I can’t really think of anything.”

“That’s okay. Tell me about your love of small dogs,” he urged.

“That really was a lame thing for me to say, wasn’t it?” I laughed.

“Not at all,” he grinned. “But now I’m dying to know where this passion for tiny canines comes from.”

“Fair enough,” I said. “Well, my parents got me a Yorkie when I was little. It was mainly meant to be like a brother or sister to me since I was an only child.”

“That’s adorable,” he answered.

“I guess. She was a really sweet little thing named Roxy,” I smiled at the memory. “The downside of getting your little girl a dog is the heartbreak that goes along with losing them. Not great for a twelve-year-old to go through, you know?”

“No shit, especially if they purchased it to act as a sibling,” he said. “Do you ever think about getting another one?”

I looked at him, hearing some sincerity in his voice and liking it, “I hadn’t thought of it, but I think Brandon and I could have a lot of fun enjoying a cute little Yorkie.”

He laughed, “Well, I’m glad I could help. My only advice would be not to allow Brandon to see it as his sibling.”

“Excellent point,” I answered, glancing back at my son, who was sound asleep in the back of the car. “So, now that we have my interests in small dogs discussed and out of the way, what are your interests, Dr. Stone? Outside of medical science and work, of course.”

“I think you already have a clue,” he answered, smiling at me. “Sailboats. I love getting out on the open sea, allowing the wind to catch the sails and hearing nothing but waves, the boat slicing through the choppy waters, and feeling the salty wind in my hair.”

I knew exactly what he was talking about, and for a second, it made me yearn to be out on one of Dad’s boats doing precisely that. I wished I felt comfortable communicating that with this man, but something told me now wasn’t the right time.

“Oh, yeah?” I tried to play dumb.

He glanced over at me, “Something tells me you know what I’m talking about, but for some odd reason, you won’t admit to it.”

Fuck.

“Is it too personal or something? Maybe bad memories?” he pried.

“Not at all,” I answered. “I love everything you mentioned about them. My dad owns a yacht company up in Santa Barbara. He’s a broker.”

“No shit?” he said as if that info blew him away.

“What’s the name of it?”

“My dad’s company?” I laughed. “Why? Are you gonna buy a sailboat from him?”

“No,” he laughed that off. “My dad is in the same business, but he works out of Los Angeles. If he’s not merging with a yacht or private aviation company, he’s competing with them and forcing a hostile takeover.”

“Damn. So, you’re telling me I’m with the son of a man who would put my dad out of business in a heartbeat if he didn’t bend the knee?”

He sighed, seeming upset about something.

“Pretty much,” he glanced at the rearview mirror and then back to the road.

“My dad and I are close in many ways, but his view of money and the ruthless lifestyle he lives by, being a vicious and heartless shark in business, is something we do not see eye-to-eye on.”

I studied him momentarily, “I don’t know you well, but I can sense that about you.”

He smiled over at me, “I’m happy you sense that because it’s a fundamental tenet of mine. My dad’s a good man, but in business, he’s a brutal bastard.”

I chuckled, “Well, hopefully, my dad’s business is safe from the man, or I might have to hate you.”

“That better not fucking happen,” he answered.

“I agree,” I smiled. “I’d hate to have to blackmail you with something to make your dad back off of mine should the day ever come.”

“There would be no blackmail necessary, sweetheart,” he said. “I would back my dad off the second he mentioned it; however, I’d need to know the name of your dad’s business.”

“Marina Vista Yachts,” I said. “It’s an elegant and very established business, and if any big, rich corporation tried to bury it or do a hostile takeover, they would lose all their clientele.”

“How so?” he questioned as we pulled into the hospital parking lot.

“My dad has worked hard to keep his clientele happy and satisfied. He’s extremely outgoing and goes above and beyond to ensure word of mouth returns more business than selling sailboats alone. His heart is very much into it, and his extremely wealthy clients know and love that about him.”

“Definitely something my father is not,” he smirked at me, pulling up to the ER. “Here. Tell the ER receptionist that Dr. Cameron Brandt is waiting for you. I’ll bring his bag and stuff in after I park the car.”

After I got Brandon out of the car and marched into the hospital, the sight of the packed waiting room made me instantly realize that I couldn’t thank Dr. Brandt or Jace enough for making this nightmare of a day just a little easier.

They didn’t have to do this, yet here we were, walking straight past the chaos.

Instead of wasting energy on small talk, worrying about small dogs, or stressing that Jace’s dad could probably crush my father’s business without breaking a sweat, I felt grateful.

I was damn tired after the day Brandon and I had been through, and I didn’t have the words to express just how grateful I was to these men for letting us skip that line and for getting Brandon the care he needed. Just knowing he was on the road to recovery meant everything to me.